


recover (abandoned, sorry)

by enbied



Category: Degrassi
Genre: M/M, Not Canon Compliant, a lil bit ooc but back then it was aight, not updated anymore it was set between 14a and b, psych ward au, the whole thing is all over the place tbh sorry it's really just a bunch of imagines tied together, tris has OSFED (anorexia orthorexia and emotional binging)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-22 23:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 10,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8305145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbied/pseuds/enbied
Summary: AU set after 1412 where Miles is a self-injurer (but still an addict in that sense) and Tris' ED didn't get forgotten, and Miles didn't really love Maya. Also the Hollingskids know ASL PSE which doesn't make sense because they're Canadian. OOC. You've been warned.





	1. grenade

Frankie rapped on Miles’ door with a resolute expression. Taking the lack of response as an invitation, she flung open the door and marched through, closing the door behind her as an afterthought.

“Alright, spill.”

Miles looked up from his History textbook, allowing his sister nothing but a tired stare.

“Spill what?”

“Why won’t you come out of your room anymore? After dad moved out… it’s not as tense.”

“I’m a teenager, Frankie. I don’t willingly spend time with my family.”

Frankie considered for a second, then hummed. “No, that’s not it.”

Miles slammed his book shut and tossed it aside.

“Then what is it? Please, oh magical omniscient sister of mine, tell me what it is.”

“Well, I know you broke up with Tristan.”

Miles laughed half-heartedly. “Because I like Maya.”

“Then why aren’t you out winning her over?”

Miles shook his head, frustrated. “Just leave me alone, okay?"

“I know you liked him, at least a little.”

“You don’t know anything,” Miles insisted as he refused to meet her eye. “Worry about yourself, sis. You still have those police interviews after Zoë changed her story on the whole oomfchat thing.”

“Classic Miles, avoiding the real problem. Unfortunately for you, I know all your tricks, and I can be very persistent. Talk to me, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

No answer came, so Frankie sat next to him, folding her arms.

“Fine then. I guess I won’t be leaving anytime soon.”

Miles picked up his book and made a point of ignoring her.

As the pages of her brother’s book slowly turned, Frankie remained patient and chipper – outwardly.

 _Damn_ , she thought.  _He’s almost as stubborn as I am… almost._

But between Frankie desperately searching for ways to entertain herself, Miles shooting annoyed glances at Frankie and the distant racket of Hunter playing a violent-sounding game downstairs, the tension was becoming unbearable.

“God, Miles, please will you just let me help you? I mean, maybe I can’t help, but I can listen, and I can keep secrets.”

Miles fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“I promise I will never say anything to anyone. We can forget it ever happened. I’m just worried about you… you’re my big brother. You always listened to my stupid problems. Now it’s my turn.”

Frankie could see that Miles was beginning to soften, so she pushed.

“Please.”

A moment passed, then Miles looked at Frankie. Her concern showed through her eyes.

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“Frankie, I can’t.”

“Then text me. Write it down. Draw a picture. Send me a song that explains it. Something. Anything.”

Miles scanned the room, exasperated, as if he would find the words scrawled on the walls.

At last, he took a deep breath and pointed out his index and middle fingers with his right hand, then moved his hand to present four fingers down and the thumb bent, pointing forwards.

Frankie frowned in concentration, working hard to remember the ASL lessons she and her brothers had taken two years ago. As her eyes flickered with recognition, she whispered ‘he’ and nodded for him to continue.

Then he made a scooping motion across the open palm of his left hand.

“He… deserves?” Frankie confirmed.

Next, starting with the fingers of his right hand near his mouth, his hand then moved to the side and closed leaving the thumb up.

“He deserves better? Is that it?”

Miles clenched his jaw, his expression empty. Frankie crawled closer and wrapped her arm around him. Sighing, she leant her head on his shoulder and told him, “You can cry if you have to. I get it.”

Not wanting to let his emotions betray him, but still struggling to control his breathing, Miles knocked his head against the wall behind him.

“Hey.” Frankie warned.

He repeated the action.

“Miles!”

And again.

Frankie rushed to position a pillow between her brother and the wall.

“FUCK.” A sudden shout erupted from Miles, making his sister jump. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…”

His curses dissolved into agonized hisses as he began to claw at his forearm.

“Miles. Don’t do this. Remember what happened last time? The hospital?” That only made him scratch more viciously. 

“Oh my god, Miles, I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what to do! I need you to stop, calm down, please!”

Finally her brother let out a shaky breath and covered his face with his hands.

“I was just –"

“No.” he interrupted. “Just don’t. Please.”

She understood; sometimes you just need silence.

“Okay.” She waited quietly for Miles’ emotions to wind down.

* * *

 

A few minutes went by before he stirred.

He formed a fist with his right hand and moved it in a circle across his chest to say “I’m sorry.”

Frankie’s fingertips touched her forehead, meaning “I know.”

“So you… don’t have feelings for Maya?”

Miles manufactured his famous half-smile as he shook his head.

“And you let Tristan believe you did because you think he deserves better than you?”

He winced at the mention of his ex-boyfriend, a jolt of pain caused by his name.

“Look at me, Franks. I’m a mess.”

“At least you get to be a hot mess?” she offered, eliciting quiet laughter.

“I’ve hurt him too much already. I can’t risk doing any more damage… I have to stay away.”

“Miles, don’t you get it? This, wallowing, avoiding everything, it’s not getting you anywhere. You have to do something positive, or you’ll never move past it.”

This time he did roll his eyes, but Frankie was unrelenting.

“You need to get up, put on your game face, and work on being a better person. You want good things? Earn them. That’s how it works.”

“I can’t help hurting people. Everything around me gets damaged when I explode.”

“Then don’t explode. Don’t be a bomb. Be… a construction site. Put up signs to warn people, but let  _them_  weigh the risks of being around you.”

“I don’t know how to do that, Frankie.”

“Well… you could start by smoothing things over with Mom – she’s going through a lot too.”


	2. mineral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> graphic depictions of self injury, heavy blood warning and light emetophobia warning.   
> this chapter is not essential but it seemed like possibly a valuable addition for those who don't know what it's like, or at least this perspective of it. seriously, you /can/ choose to skip this one.

An eating disorder. My Tristan. My strong, happy, headstrong Tristan.

I try to swallow but I feel too nauseous, I'm in shock, I'm devastated.

And I made it worse.

"Can I see him?" I choke out.

Frankie shakes her head and looks away. She says he's only allowed family until tomorrow night.

I lean forward and put my head in my hands, not even bothering to hide the fact that I'm starting to cry.

I did this. I did this to him. If I had just not flirted with him in the first place, if I had let him down easy, if I had tried harder...

I have to see him, I stand up, I have to see him, I'm going to throw up, I run to the bathroom, I empty my stomach, I dismiss the irony, I look at my reflection in the mirror.

My eyes are red and tears are dripping all over the sink. This is the face of someone who almost killed Tristan Milligan. My eyes are not red enough.

I search the cabinet for one of Frankie's razors, and find a packet in the second drawer. Tweezers, scissors, knife, anything, nothing, teeth. Snap. I tense my arm and pull. White, white pain, black, fading. Blood. Stinging.

Blood. Not enough. Tears? Tears will sting. I bring my arm up to my face. Not enough. Pull. Good. Pull. Not as good. Pull twice to make up for it. Fuck, Frankie's at the door. Fuck, there's blood everywhere. Fuck, what have I done.

Think of something. Tristan. No. Fuck. Bears. Bears will do. Deep breath. Steady voice.

"It's cool Frankie, I just need a minute. Seriously, I'll be fine, I mean it." And I will. When there's enough. Pull. Pull. More.

I wash off the blood and look up at the mirror again. Dead eyes, cold and dead. I pocket the blade, throw the rest in the trash, weakly hope she won't notice.

Face her now. No point waiting. Open the door, coward. Pretend you regret it. "Franks, I'm sorry."

Did she hear me? Yes. She looks mad. She's trying not to. She's trying to be nice. She shouldn't bother. Everyone who tries to help me gets hurt. I don't deserve help. Isolation, maybe. Death? Oh. She's talking. What is she saying? The sounds aren't words. How do I make them words? She's running.

I walk over to the couch and slump down. I'm careful to only bleed on myself. The couch was no doubt expensive. Where's my phone? Have to find out where he is. Mom's here! Mom will know.

She's holding bandages. Haha, yeah, I forgot. She's saying things, nice things, interspersed with mean things. I'm too distracted. This high is different to pot. This high fills the space between terrible and okay. Why did I ever stop?


	3. don't lean on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles is struggling to survive the time before he can see Tristan, whose eating disorder has led to him being hospitalised.  
> light marijuana use warning, but he's not an addict in this fic and also i don't know shit about marijuana so lol

I’m on Miles duty tonight. Mom said I shouldn’t be; she said I’ve seen enough for today. But I don’t mind. I think he needs me more than Mom or Hunter.

“I’m going to go smoke,” he mutters, getting up to leave. I move to block the door.

“Uh-uh. No can do. You can’t be alone right now, and I’m not in the mood for your second hand smoke.”

“Then watch me through the window; I don’t care.” He pushes past me.It’s a cold night, I can tell, the kind of cold that makes your joints ache and your nose turn slightly blue. Miles collapses into a deck chair. Searching his pockets for a joint, he finds his lighter. He draws in a deep breath and closes his eyes.  _Fight it, Miles. It will only get worse._ _Fight it. Please._

He stares at his destroyed arm, the arm dad always used to wrench him aside when he did something stupid. His expression’s almost hateful. Oh god, now he’s playing with the lighter, staring at the flame.  _No, Miles. Find a distraction. Fight it._  I guess he couldn’t find a joint on him, because he’s hurling the lighter at the wall opposite. It shatters and falls in pieces to the floor. Running a hand through his hair, he looks empty, defeated.

Clenching his fists, he pulls out his phone. After scrolling for a second, he mumbles something I can’t hear through the glass. After a minute more of scrolling, he moves to come inside, and I can see he’s been crying.

“Uh, hey Franks, can I ask a favour?”

Narrowing my eyes, I respond, “It… depends what it is…”

“Can you make me some brownies?”

There it is. I roll my eyes, and remind him I always burn things, but I’ll make the batter. I know he just wants to sneak some weed butter in anyway. He probably does need something to tide him over until he can see Tris.

“Thanks, sis.” Then he hugs me. He actually hugs me, and I’m so surprised I forget to hug back for a moment, but when I do, he hugs tighter.

Just then, I see Winston approaching the door. Shit. I step outside so Miles doesn’t hear our conversation.

"I told you not to come over!" I hiss, but he ignores me, charging through to confront Miles, now sprawled across the couch and flicking through channels on the tv.

“What the hell, dude?” he challenges.

“What?” Miles doesn’t look at him, but you can hear annoyance in his voice. This is going to be bad.

Winston clears his throat loudly and gestures at Miles’ bandaged arm, raising his eyebrows.

“You’re going to need to elaborate on that, Chewy.”

“You did that in front of Frankie? Your  _fourteen_  year old  _sister_?”

 _Oh. Okay, wow._  He gets a jab in the ribs for that. Receiving no response from Miles, Winston continues his attack.

"Do you know what you’re doing to your family? To your friends? No, scratch that, friend. Because I’m the only one you’ve got left, Miles."

Miles still refuses to meet his eye.

"You need to get your shit together and stop hurting people or you’ll-"

"I  _KNOW_.” Miles stands up, unable to contain his temper. “Actually, no.  _Fuck you_. You’re supposed to be my best friend but you’re constantly putting me down, telling me what a failure I am!”

He pushes Winston in the chest so he staggers backward.

"Miles!" I interject, figuring this has gone far enough.

"You know you’re just like our dad sometimes? You never spoke up even when you knew what he was doing. You’re a good friend, Chewy, but you have no idea what it’s like! You can’t come over here and - and walk all over me when I  _clearly_  already know what a screw up I am!”

 _Oh jeez._  I grab Winston’s arm and pull him away before anything escalates, but before I can get him out of the room, Miles has one last thing to say.

He lowers his voice and says, “And if you  _ever_  hurt my sister…”


	4. lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles and Frankie attempt to visit Tristan in hospital.

He won’t see me?! He won’t even talk to me?! I’m standing outside his room begging to see him and he won’t even give me five minutes?!

“I’m sorry, he said no. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

I’m starting to panic now. Adrenaline makes me size up the nurse talking to me, wondering if I can push past him. I doubt it. It won’t help anything.

“Fine, whatever, but is he going to be okay?”

“I’m afraid I can’t give out patient information.”

I slam my hands against the wall, not loud enough to attract attention, but hard enough to startle the nurse. A sigh turns into a hiss of “Shit, Tristan,  _shit._ ” And I turn to the nurse again.

“Well – wh- what about Frankie? Ask him if he’ll see Frankie!” I push.

He sighs, and heads back to Tristan’s room.

The nurse returns and gestures to Frankie to go in.

“I’m not taking a message.”

I let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through my hair and eventually nod my acceptance.

I lean back against the wall, blinking back tears. What a stupid phrase. But it’s accurate. I can’t do anything to stop it except blink.

Frankie’s gone for what feels like forever, and I can’t hear anything. I’m left to my own thoughts – the usual, but amplified.

I ruined everything. I ruined both of us. And that’s just it; I didn’t say I ruined myself first or I ruined him first. I said both of us, because I felt that we were even, I thought everything was equal and fair. But then I saw it and I knew it wasn’t fair. He practically worshipped me just like he worshipped Yates, forgiving everything, believing in me for so long while I was trying to stop him. I just wanted to do what was right for him,  _because_  I care about him.

I always do this. Even when I try to be a good person it’s a disaster.

Frankie appears, looking unsettled, and looks me straight in the eye.

"Miles, I need you to stay calm while I talk, okay?"

"I can't  _promise_  anything," I reply, exasperated.

"Okay," she hesitates, looking at the nurse now warily observing me. "He's really sick. He's safe here but he can’t stay here forever so... I don’t know. He might be okay, but only if he works hard at it. And from what little he told me, I don't think he wants to."

I sink back against the wall. I can't comprehend this. I should be scared and guilty but I can't feel anything.

"Does...” I take a sharp breath in; I can’t believe I’m asking this. “Does he want to die?"

"I don't know that he wants to die, I just think his disorder has a really good hold on him.” She pauses, then steps forward and tugs at my arm. “I think we should go."

Distractedly, I comply, vaguely hoping I can keep my focus on the road.


	5. wicked games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles begs Tristan for a chance to talk face to-face.

I’m trying to be understanding.  I know what I did.  I know that feeling, like you can’t possibly survive this, like everything is just going to let you down.  He has every right to ignore me forever but I… no.  It’s not about me.  It’s not about what I want.  But I can’t resist.  I don’t even hesitate before sending it.

 

[Sent 11:41am, Jan 19]  
I’m so sorry, Tristan.  I never meant to hurt   
you.  I hope you’re okay.  Please be okay.

 

That was so selfish of me.  Even if he deletes it without reading it I’ll still have caused him pain.  But since I’ve already started, what difference does it make if I keep going?

 

[Sent 11:42am, Jan 19]  
Please can I talk to you?  If you need space I   
understand that, I’ll leave you alone.  I’m just   
trying to explain.

 

[Sent 11:45am, Jan 19]  
It’s not about Maya.  You were never a way   
to get back at her.  It was always you.  It’s   
my fault, all of it.  Please let me prove it to   
you.

 

[Sent 11:46am, Jan 19]  
Well, it is about you, but it’s not your fault.  I   
should have done things differently.

 

[Sent 11:48am, Jan 19]  
I’m not just worried about you because I feel  
like this is my fault.  I care about you more   
than you realise.  Please can I see you?  I   
promise I won’t waste your time.  You can   
yell at me all you want.  Hit me, scream in my   
face, anything.  Just give me a chance to   
show you.

 

He shouldn’t have to deal with seeing me, hearing from me, I know, but I can’t let him keep thinking I never cared.  I always cared.

I’ve been too selfish all my life.  I made my own father so angry he almost hurt Hunter.  He hurt me too, but maybe everyone was right.  Maybe it was my fault.  Maybe I’m the one who should leave.  I just ruin everything anyway.  I’ve gone off at Winston, triggered Tristan’s eating disorder, put stress on everyone around me, all I ever do is hurt people and screw up.  I can’t make them happy.  I try to do the right thing and it ends up making things exponentially worse.

I’m pacing around my room, not sure what I’m trying to achieve.  Then again, pacing isn’t really something that makes sense, is it?  It’s pointless and a waste of time.  Just like me.  Just like everything I do.  Fuck this.

Before I know it, my hand has formed a fist and broken through the plaster of the wall.  I stare at the damage, confused but kind of indifferent.

Huh.  Mom will be mad.  I’ll probably just avoid it for a while.

My phone buzzes.

 

[Received 12:17pm, Jan 19]  
You have five minutes. Come back at 4.


	6. i'm not over

Miles had rehearsed his apology a thousand times, but now he seemed to have too many thoughts in his head.  He’d just have to grab some and hope for the best.

He walked through the doorway to see Tristan wearing blue skinny jeans and a black t-shirt, all normal.  Except that he was sitting cross-legged on a hospital bed, with a tube in his nose and an IV taped in his left hand.  He glanced up, then turned his gaze back to his phone.  Miles was in shock at how weak he looked, like bones covered in a thin layer of skin, after only a couple of weeks.  Miles figured it must have started earlier than that.  All he wanted to do was hold him and somehow fix everything.  But he decided not to move any closer. 

“Five minutes, remember?”

Miles struggled to put words together.  “Tris,” he whispered, frozen in place.

“You said you weren’t going to waste my time.”

That snapped him out of it.  The brunet sank down in the nearest chair and began a torrent of words.

“Just please know I am so, incredibly sorry.  For everything.  For hurting you.  For what you’re going through now.  I know you’ll say it has nothing to do with me, I’m selfish for thinking I mean that much to you, all that.  I know.  But I know I was part of it.  And I would have helped, if you’d told me.”

Miles caught Tristan rolling his eyes, and pressed on.

“You were right. I’m a terrible person.  When you were telling me all those things, I couldn’t speak.  I knew I’d only try to get you back and I didn’t want you to have to put up with me anymore.  You’re better off without me.  I went about it the wrong way, I guess.  I care about you and I’m sorry and I just want you to talk to me but I know you can’t right now and you’re probably not even listening and I’m sorry.”

Tristan was listening. His eyes were misting and he wouldn't look up from his phone, but he was listening.

“You know, I told you so many times I’m over Maya.  I swear I am.  If I wanted her I wouldn’t have been with you.  Even if I did I still would have been into you.  I _was._   I’m sorry you never believed me.  But it’s you.  It’s only you, Tris, ever since I met you I tried to stop it because you’re too good for me and you deserve someone who won’t hurt you like I did.  But that’s what happened, so.

“Fuck, Tris, I’m so sorry.  I mean it this time; you can never understand how much I mean it.  Anything I can do for you I’ll do it.  I’ll do it twice, I’ll do anything to keep you safe and healthy and happy.  I’ll spend the rest of my life working to make it up to you if that’s what you want.”

Still, Tristan didn’t say anything, so Miles, who was struggling to keep his feet where they were, swallowed and continued. 

“I could write a book on your smile, Tris.  I could date every person in the world and still never find anyone who makes me feel like you do.  You’re the purest, gentlest, kindest person I’ve ever met.  I can’t even  _begin_  to explain how perfect you are, how gorgeous and smart and funny and loveable you are.  You’re a better person than me.  I know that.  I want to fix this, and if I can’t I’ll get as close as I can to that.  I’m not asking you to take me back.  I just want you to be okay and whatever it takes to make that happen I’ll do it.  Please, tell me what to do.”

For the first time that afternoon, Tristan spoke.  “Leave.”

“What?  No, I - I can’t, I can’t do that. Tris, please, anything else –”

Tristan called out for a nurse, while Miles became increasingly panicked.

“No, please, I-”

“Miles. I'm serious. You need to leave.”

He tried to step toward Tristan but stopped as stony blue eyes met fearful hazel.  “I will feel better, if you leave.”

Hearing that, Miles stopped fighting.  His eyes dropped to the floor.  After a slow, deep breath, he nodded and turned to leave.  Making his way down the corridor, he analysed every word he said, trying to find anywhere he could have worded his thoughts better.  There was nothing, nothing he could have done differently, nothing he could do now. 

But at least he got to apologise properly. At least he got it all out in the open.

At least Tristan got the choice whether to listen.


	7. head go wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> graphic descriptions of self harm and blood again, if you're squeamish or at risk this is your warning.

'There you go again, Miles, you goddamn screw up, you can never get anything right, can you? Always ruining everything...'

I told them I’d gone to bed.  I told them I was feeling alright.  Now I’m tearing off the bandages on my arm and scratching at the half-healed gashes.

‘Giant fuck up, destructive asshole,’ I swear to myself, punching the mirror.

It shatters upon impact and I cut my face, arms and hand on the airborne shards but I don't care.  I deserve this.  I do.

I don’t want to stop anymore.  I don’t see a reason to.  There’s just this emotionless compulsion and I’m not sure it’s a real feeling but I’m sure I’m experiencing it and nothing else.

This is fucked.  This is so fucked.  I never had anything.  I never had my family or my friends or Maya, and I sure as hell never had Tristan.  Right from the start he didn’t trust me and it’s not hard to see why.  I guess I was using him, to an extent.  But everyone uses everyone.  Everyone wants something from you and sometimes it ends up great for you but sometimes that person is me and I fuck you over so hard you get PTSD or eating disorders or a building catches fire.  I can't fucking stand this.  I can’t fucking stand myself.

One of my fingers got sliced to the bone at some point but I don’t take much notice.  I yank a remaining shard of glass and hack mercilessly into the rest of my forearm, hoping maybe it would hurt more this time, or I’d have nerve damage, or something else terrible.  That’s what I need.  Pain for the rest of my life.

It's strange to see the inside of your own skin.  It's such a brilliant white for that moment before the red floods in.  We were never meant to see that, never meant to hear the rip of our own flesh.  But it calms me.  Or maybe it doesn’t.  Maybe I’ve just lost too much blood.  Yeah.  It's probably that.  My vision is blurry, grainy.  I’m off balance and 


	8. water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tristan is new at Greenbank's adolescent ward.

TRISTAN'S POV **  
**

No. No, no no no. What the fuck.

Miles is here.

He’s at the staff station, signing something on a clipboard.

No.  He can’t be here.  He shouldn’t be here. 

I pretend I’m walking over to my room to get his attention.  Luckily, the nurse is too wrapped up in the paperwork to see me mouthing 'What are you doing here?'

He doesn’t answer; he can't meet my eye anymore, and I have no idea what to do with that.

She notices me.  “Oh, hey Tristan.  Do you two know each other?”

He begins to say something.  Shit.  I can’t let him do that.  If they find out, he’ll be moved somewhere else.  The only other ward in this city is all the way across town, and it’s awful.  I would know.

I interrupt, “No, I think we’ve just met once a few years ago.  Right, um, Miles, wasn’t it?”

Confused eyes shot up to meet mine, and I have to shoot him a look that says 'follow my lead.'  “Uh, yeah. Yeah that’s right.”

“Lucky we aren’t really close, right?  Can’t risk any drama in here!”  I already know the drill; if you know someone who's here, you're shipped off to another unit.

The nurse makes a noise of agreement, then asks if I need anything.

“Oh, um, yeah, can you unlock my door? I need to get something.”

I can’t believe I’m going to be living with Miles for two more weeks, assuming I'm a trouble-free patient.  It could be three, or  _four_.  I just fucking got here, got used to the idea of being on my own in a new place with strangers watching my every move.  But Miles doing the same?  That’s a far worse fate than I was prepared for.

As she tries to find the right key on her oversized keychain, my mind flashes back to a heated make out session.  It’s definitely not a good time to be remembering this, but I can’t help it.  His hands on me, his lips on mine, those things never felt that good with Grant.  They never felt as right.  Miles made me feel safe, and even more so when he would pull away just to look at me.  I never asked him why, but it seemed like he was... in _awe._  Like he wanted to say something but he was speechless.  No, never mind, that's narcissistic as hell.

Since we broke up I’ve been thinking it was all an act, but seeing that he’s here… I don’t know.  Maybe he needs to be here.  Maybe what he told me was the truth and he lost it when I kicked him out.  Shit.  I shouldn't have been so cold to him yesterday.  This is all my fault.

Taking the first book my hand could reach, I started back to the art room where Sophie and Jahad were screwing around with pencils and clay.  I had to walk past Miles’ room while he got the run-down of the rules.

His room is right next to us, so we can hear the whole conversation. Since Jahad doesn’t talk, the voices are only broken up by Sophie sporadically commenting on the consistency of paint and wondering when she'll be allowed to have her shoelaces back. 

I, on the other hand, am paying attention to Miles’ voice, or rather, the lack of it. He isn’t responding to anything the nurse asks him. I don’t know why he’s here, but I do know they wouldn’t admit him unless he’s dealing with something, and pulling this shit on his first day isn’t going to get him out - or get him better - any faster.

I never would have thought he’d end up in a psych ward when I first met him.  Then again, I never thought  _I’d_ land myself in here until I did.  Maybe he just pulled some strings to get in here to get another chance to talk to me.  But that wouldn’t explain why he seemed so ashamed when I saw him just two minutes ago…

“Well Miles, do you want to meet the other patients here?  Most of them are on overnight leave but there should be a few over in the art room if –”

“No,” he hurriedly interrupts.  “I - I'd rather just stay here for a while.  If that's okay."

So he's avoiding me.  Well, maybe not  _me_ , but people in general, at least. Either way, I have to admit I'm relieved.  I don't know if I could cope with him trying to win me back while I'm essentially trapped.

I don't know if I can cope with being here at all.


	9. impossible year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so bad; I was gonna put it in 'unfinished fics' but there are too many chapters lmao

“Come through to the medical office and we’ll take some notes.”

I follow the nurse, whose name I didn't care to pay attention to, from my room down a curved hallway of walls plastered with what looks like five year olds’ art.

She unlocks a door – god, there are so many doors in this place – and walks into the small room behind it.  It’s painted blinding white, with cupboards and drawers covered in medical posters.  She motions for me to sit down on the exam table.  I follow while she grabs a clipboard from a haphazard stack on the bench across from me.

“So first I need to take down any markings you have on your body.  Do you have any scars or tattoos on you aside from –”  she gestures at my arm, nonchalant, and I don’t feel the same pang of shame I usually had when anyone looked at it.  I guess she wouldn’t have the job if she was judgmental.

“Ah, I have this scar on my knee from when I was a kid?” I lifted the left leg of my chinos

“Alright.  I’m going to take some blood now; have you had any water today?”

My heart rate hastens dramatically, which’ll probably be just one of many reasons for alarm bells to ring, considering I probably still have weed in my system.  “Why do you need that?”

“Just to see if you’ve got any deficiencies, test for drugs, things like that.”

“So – hypothetically of course – if I had taken anything recently, would you… have to report it?”

I catch a small smirk while she wraps a plastic cuff around my arm and attaches a clip to my finger.  After pressing an assortment of buttons on the machine she watches as the cuff tightens.

“Nope,” she glances up to shoot me a knowing smirk.  “Only possession.  But we do test every time you come back to the ward, so you have to stay away from illegal substances _and_ _self-harm_ while you’re here.  If we find you breaking your contract we can't guarantee we’ll still have a place for you.”

My stomach sinks.  All I’m going to want when I get out of here is a hit, and I don't know how to _stop_ self harming anymore.  Already, without thinking, I'm digging my nails into my palms...  fuck, I don’t know what the hell to expect in here. 

“So, if I get high I'm out?”  God, I hope she didn't catch the touch of fear in my voice.

She notes down some numbers and scribbles something else indiscernible; classic medical field handwriting.  “People who really want help are on the waiting list.  If you decide not to use what you learn here then there’s not much else we can do.”

“What am I supposed to learn, obedience?  I think that ship has sailed for me.”  My mirth is dampened some by the horror stories of 1960s institutions, despite knowing they were just stories from forever ago.

“This is a medical facility, Miles.  We treat you.  There are dozens of effective therapies out there;  we can help you find the right ones and work with you on finding real solutions to your problems.”

“I’ve heard that before.”  I’m trying to seem nonchalant but it’s probably coming off fairly negative.  Last time I was admitted to hospital, they decided after a few days that I was fine and sent me home. 

“Most patients we see here are skeptical at first; but you’ll learn ways to control yourself, _motivate_ yourself.  You learn to ask yourself about why you did something or why you feel something, so you can get down to the root of your problems and work your way back up.”

“But, like, what if I can’t help it?  What if I'm really trying but I snap?”

“In general, we don’t let patients out on leave until they feel they can stay in control of whatever behaviours they do, y’know.  You’re on level two right now, so you’re only allowed visitors to come in, but the levels go up the more we trust you.  So level three is ground leave, level four is overnight… there’s other things about the levels, like when you can have your shoelaces back and how much supervision you need, but really we're super relaxed here if you are."

She crosses the opens a drawer full of plastic packed syringes.  Maybe they really do test every time.

“Just a sharp sting for a second so I can take some blood, alright?”

I hate this place.  The only thing that can help me is time travel.  Or a lobotomy.  

Or Tris.


	10. love again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tris and miles have an explosive argument after days of not speaking in the ward and miles is kinda manipulative
> 
> (so many of these chapter names are pentatonix songs smh)

It’s just me, Sophie and Miles watching a rerun of 30 Rock.  I’m surprised it’s not blocked; the child lock system is supposed to shut off the signal when the rating goes above PG.  They don’t trust us to do anything in here – we can’t have phones, we’re not allowed to swear, we can’t even close our doors.

Miles is sprawled across the armchair and Sophie’s assembling a 1,000 piece puzzle of the Eiffel Tower.  Yesterday I asked if I could help just to have something to do but she turned out to be very protective of it, as evidenced by the faint growl I heard when I approached.

“Devil’s avocado here, Larry.” I give a half-hearted laugh, remembering how I had to pause the episode to catch my breath when I first watched it.

The nurse watching us gets a page and tells Sophie she has to see her case manager.  As he escorts her away, Miles and I both realise that we were alone, but don’t look at each other.

After a moment more of Tina Fey’s voice as the only sound heard, I take the opportunity to say the words I’ve been constantly thinking since he got here.

“You fucked me up, Miles.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t _tell_ me you’re _sorry!”_ I spat.  “I needed you and you weren’t there.  You knew what I’d been through and you still tried your best to put me through even more.  I don’t want to hear it.”

He turns to face me, gazing with that pleading expression he seems to reserve only for me.

“But I _am_ , Tris.  I hate myself for ever hurting you.  And to know I hurt you so many times… I feel awful.”

“It doesn’t _matter_ how awful you feel.  It doesn’t make a difference.  I don’t owe you anything.”

“I spent days trying to find a way around it.  I tried to make you leave but you kept taking everything I threw at you.”

“Right, so this is _my_ fault?!”

“No!  God, no!  It’s my fault for… for being born, I guess.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Miles!  Just stop doing that!  I’m not here to comfort you!  I don’t exist for your benefit!  The world doesn’t revolve around you!”

“What do you want me to say?  That I’m not sorry?  That I’m happy you stopped eating?  That I wish I’d done more damage?  What?”

I stand up to walk away, but he jumps in front of me so I can’t escape.

“You’ve made me a better person.  I’m still not a good person but I’m trying, please believe me.  I _will_ deserve you and I _will_ make it up to you, a hundred times over.”

I turn away to avoid looking at him.  The more I do that, the more I soften and I can’t let that happen.

“I didn’t know it was possible to feel this much for anyone, especially in such a short time.  But I’ve known you longer than that, and I always knew there was something about you.”

“Don’t try appealing to my romantic side.” Hopefully my eyes were glassy, like I’d already decided he meant nothing to me.  Of course, we both knew that wasn’t true.

“Tristan, I need you.  It’s not fair on you to say that and it’s not about me, I get that, but it’s true.  I don’t deserve you but I want you and I’m too selfish to let you go again.”

“God, why couldn’t you just talk to me?!  How dare you make that choice for me?!” I exploded.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “If I could go back…”

“We were so happy, Miles.” I shake my head sadly.  I was so stupid to think the good drama wouldn’t turn bad.????????????????????????

“It’s not over.  I’m not giving up, Tris.”

He can be very persistent, I’ve seen that in him before, and my resolve is wavering already.  Fuck it.  I’ll play along.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever trust you again.  I don’t know if I even want to try.”

He nods, like he understands.  But he doesn’t.  He doesn’t know how hard it is to even talk to him.

“Besides, I have some other things to deal with right now,” I deadpan, lifting my arm to direct attention to my hospital bracelet.

“I’m here if you need me.  If not, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“You keep saying you’ll stay away but then you don’t – how am I supposed to believe anything you say?”

“I can’t just sit around waiting for you to talk to me again!  I have to do something!”

“Then channel it into something else, Miles.  I don’t want you following me around like a lost puppy!”

“What the fuck do you think this is, huh?!”

He rolls up his sleeve to show me countless cuts and burns.  My breath catches and I’m not sure whether to look away.

Mostly to convince myself, I whisper, “That’s not my problem.”

“No.  It’s mine.  I’m here because I hurt you and I hurt everyone.”

“I’m not responsible for your goddamn safety, Miles!”

He grips my arm and wrenches our bodies together, kissing me rough and hot.  Feeling his lips on mine and the familiarity of his touch, I relax into the kiss, remembering the breathless elation I always felt being close to him.

It’s like we’re back to the way we were, and all the darkness falls away until I’m happy again.  It’s bliss.

Then he pulls away and releases my arm, jolting me back to the present.

“I’m so sorry, I – I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Fuck.

“No, you need to stay away from me.”

I walk away as fast as I can, not sure where I’m going but hoping he won’t follow me. 

He made me forget everything.  Everything except how good it felt to have him pushing against me, how effortless we were when we didn’t think.

It was so much better than having the pain on my mind.


	11. cracked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie and Hunter (and their mom) visit Miles.

Frankie and Hunter and their mom just got there, and they got stuck in the dining room because someone’s in psychosis.  Also their mom is busy talking to a nurse for some reason idc I warned you this fic was a mess

“Well?  How’ve you been?” Frankie asks, enthusiastic, chipper, dipping a fry in sauce. They’d brought Miles food from Chompy Chicken because it’s his favourite and he didn't have day leave yet.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Fine, I guess.”

Not one to be discouraged by Miles’ indifference, she tried again.  “What’s it like in here?”

“Pretty boring.”

“Ever the chatterbox,” Frankie said sarcastically.  “Well, you’ll be happy to know Dad’s moved out.”

“What?  Are you serious?”  Miles sat up in his chair.

“Mom kicked him out the day you got here.  Said she finally came to her senses.”

“She didn’t even tell me!  What - how are you guys;  how’s home?”

“It’s about the same as usual.  Kinda quiet though,” Frankie answers.

Miles laughs, but in a hollow kind of way.  “I’m sure it is.”

“You know what I mean.  We all miss you.  Right, Hunter?”  Frankie nudges Hunter, who seems more interested in a girl sitting at the next table.

“What?  Oh, yeah.  There’s an ever-growing hole in my heart.” Hunter smirks.

Miles can’t hide a genuine smile at that.

“and…” (she signs “Tris?”)

(signed format) “he said go away.”

(smirking hunter) (signed format) “why you not just kiss him?”

He grimaces and signs “two day before”

(signed format) “I wasn’t serious!”

“I know you guys are talking about me.”  Tristan’s voice startles them all.

“You sign?” Frankie is petrified or sth

“No, but you stopped speaking and I’m pretty sure I caught “kiss” and “go away”.  Plus, you’re all kinda looking at me.”

“Right.  Sorry.” - Frankie

“Look, if you guys want to talk about what happened go right ahead but let me make it clear that I don’t have any goddamn time for this.  I deserve space and respect.”

Miles nods and softly says, “I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this is the part where the fic just completely stops making any chronological sense, as if it made any sense in general before]


	12. all we do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the point at which i stopped really caring lmao

“Ugh. Coated chicken and wedges _again_?” Tristan dropped his plate onto the table as he sat down, shamelessly letting it clatter.

"Yeah, I mean it was great the first two times but it's kinda getting old now, huh?"

"This is a _medical facility_ ; I can't believe how unhealthy the food is.”

“You still have to eat it," Jahan commiserates.

“Yeah, yeah.”  Tristan takes a sip of his water.  “I just wish they’d let me eat the _kind_ of calories I want.”

“Tristan,” the nurse warned.

“Seriously?  Everyone else can get away with murder in here but the second I say 'calories'…”

“Tristan.” She repeated, equally as firm.

and miles is over in the corner watching him eat and he's showing obsessive compulsive eating habits like sorting his food and drinking half a glass of water every bite because he's actually super fucked

so tristan’s like ??????? *gives him a look* but miles just hides it better

Tristan hisses to Miles to stop staring at him.  He was there first, he would have stayed there and miles would have been moved to the shitty ward across town.  Miles said he'd stay out of his way.  Miles tries to stop looking at him from then on.

And then the nurse comes over and says "you have to eat, tristan" and he can't make eye contact he's just like "ya." and everyone at his table is awkward thinkin "what is he in for" but you're not allowed to ask that so now everyone's secretly watching him eat and he's shaking internally trying to figure out how to make this giant overfilled plate look emptier without eating any of it because it's trash food and potato is one of his fear foods :(


	13. see through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trissyboo talks to his case worker about Miles, and his ED

 

TRISTAN'S POV

I’ve taken to reading in my room whenever I can, just so I can avoid the debate in my head.  I find that distracting myself for long periods of time helps me make better decisions than overthinking.  It could be waiting for something to push me to make a decision, to give him a chance or cut him out of my life – not that that’s actually an option.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but it’s been bothering me, and if I have to talk to a psychologist I might as well mention it.  There are eleven of us, and six guys aside from me.  She can't know for sure which one unless I give her a name.  I hope.

“I understand you hid your history from your respective treatment teams when you first came in?”

“Only because I didn’t want him getting stuck in Eastmead across town.  I was there last year for a few days and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“Okay, so what made you tell me?”

“I figured he’s been here long enough that everyone’s seen we’re not causing any drama.  Except…” I trailed off, still worried he’d get kicked out because of what I say.

“Except what?  As long as no one’s feeling distressed I think we can avoid transferring this person elsewhere.”

“Well, we had a talk last week and he was telling me again that he doesn’t still have feelings for his ex, he just pushed me away because he felt I deserved better, he’s really sorry, blah blah blah.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I don’t even care if it’s true.  He destroyed me.  He was my best friend and my first relationship after Grant and he destroyed me.”  I sigh, avoiding her gaze but knowing I have to get this out for my own good.  “I’m over it, I’ve told him that.”

“And since then you two haven’t interacted?”

I hesitated again.

“I can tell he’s watching how much I eat, but it’s not so annoying because the staff are doing that already.  He deliberately chooses different activities and different tables to give me space, but he’s still staring at me every time we’re in the same room.”

“Why do you think he does that?”

“I don’t know.  Curiosity maybe?  Or he actually does care about me.  Either way I could probably just tell him to cut it out.”

“Does he seem to have made any friends in the unit?”

I was surprised by this question – it’s like she thinks I’m watching him just as much.

“Um, I wouldn’t know.  I don’t think so.  He’s been pretty quiet since he got here.”

“And you?”

“I think I’ve sort of clicked with Sophie and Jahan.  We sit in the art room after lunch and talk about music and films and stuff.  It’s alright.”

“That’s good, Tristan.  Now,” she retrieved my case notes from her not-so-stylish briefcase and began a search for something in particular.  “I’m told you’ve been showing signs of obsessive compulsive habits when you eat.”

I didn’t want to even think about eating, or food, or how fat I am.

“Can we not talk about that?”

“Why?”

I pretty much shut down then, folding my arms across my huge stomach, as if I could hide it.  I know I’m not supposed to let myself think like that, but it’s just so much work to check every thought, decide whether it’s negative, then grasp at straws looking for a way to prove it wrong.  I’m tired of thinking.  I’m tired of feeling.  So I tell her that.

“I don’t want to be fighting this stupid disorder every second of my life.  Especially when it feels healthy to be focusing on what I eat and what I look like.”

“You think what it’s telling you is true?”

“I don’t know.  Some of it.  Maybe most of it.  I’m not sure which parts.  I know everyone says recovery is possible… I’m just not sure it’s worth it.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris snaps at Miles and gets shit from the nurses  
> (sorry this is where it turns into more of my 'what i imagined could happen' outline instead of a fic but you were warned

Triles and some other kids are in class and Tristan's restless and playing with a curl in his hair.

“Is trichotillomania contagious now?” Sophie joked.

Tristan doesn’t hear her.

“Are you okay, Tristan?”

He puts his arm down on the table and sighs. “They won’t let me run.”

She grabs another marker from the container in the middle of the desk. “Well… that’s kind of your _thing,_ isn’t it?”

The teacher leans in between the two. “You’ve been asked not to discuss your treatment plans.”

“How am I supposed to maintain a healthy lifestyle if I can’t exercise?”

“Tristan, you can discuss this with the nurses at lunch. We’ll work something out but for now, please focus on your work.”

“Yeah, I hear that a lot. ‘We’ll work something out; we’ll talk about it later.’ What the hell does that mean? They’ll talk later and they’ll tell me ‘no’ again.”

(nurse) “Alright, Tristan, you can run at lunch on the field.”

“Hell, no. Not with everyone watching me; are you insane?”

“I’ll run with you, if it’ll make you feel better.” Miles lifts his pen with his hand while he talks because he does that and it's adorable.

Tristan narrows his eyes. “Why the hell do you think that would make me feel better?”

Miles holds his hands up in surrender, and murmurs, “Sorry, just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help, skinny bitch,” Tristan snarls.

(nurse) “Okay, Tristan, come outside please.”

Tristan drops his pen on the table obnoxiously loudly. When he’s outside the door.

“Sorry, bad language, I know.” Tristan sounded bored.

“What happened in there, Tristan?”

“Do you have to use my name in every sentence?”

“Do you need a time out?” she countered.

Tristan rolled his eyes at the childish nature of the practice, crossing his arms. “I just need to exercise. Without anyone watching me, or telling me how much I can and can’t do.”

He takes a deep breath, resolving to be more reasonable.

“I’m just agitated because I have all this energy that I can’t get rid of and no one will let me exercise yet while they’re ‘figuring me out’ or whatever but, I feel suffocated. I know it’s not healthy to overdo it but it doesn’t seem fair that everyone else gets to exercise when they have nervous energy and I’m only allowed to hold a piece of silk or fill in a piece of paper about how I'm feeling.”

so his teacher pages a nurse to take him to the field to run and he comes back and his teacher makes him apologise

“Miles, I’m sorry for being rude to you and using inappropriate language.” and it's a fake ass apology but miles isn't mad because everyone here has their shit and Tristan's beef with the nurses probably didn't get resolved yet

 

then later miles is playing jenga with Jahan and tris comes up to him and asks all meek and solemn if he can sit with them (bc they're on the floor bc there are like three tiny fuckin couches and you're not allowed to touch anyone so ??? good luck)

and miles does that eyebrow question thing to Jahan and he does his friendly nod thing and tris does his grateful smile thing and sits next to miles with his arms wrapped around his knees and is all

"miles, i'm sorry."

and he's confused like, "What? What for?" and he takes a block out of the tower real quick bc he's still playin jenga (don’t forget the jenga) but he looks at tris asap

so tris does a four step apology that he learnt in group (I'm sorry for [what he did] it was wrong because [why it matters] next time I will [positive action like 'keep my words to myself' or whatever, not just 'next time I won't be a dick' type thing]... will you forgive me?)  
but miles catches on halfway and does his quiet laugh thing and is like, "Thank you Tris. Yes I'll forgive you."

and they make eye contact and tris is secretly having feels so he says i have to go and miles grabs his wrist like he always does

and the nurse is all warning "Miiiiiles"

and he lets go and tells him he doesn't have to leave but his eyes are so honest and caring and tris wants to kiss him/forgive him/take him back so desperately so he's like

uhhh no i uh *pulls at collar nervously* i should go clean my room before owen comes (bc his parents don't visit him. just owen. and occasionally zoë with owen because you have to be 18+ to get in. maya doesn't see either one though because she apparently doesn't worry about anyone who isn't a love interest smh)

and then after Tris leaves Jahan is like *eyebrow waggle* you two would make a cute couple if he weren't so awkward around you  
and Miles is like lmao thanks. then under his breath he says, "You should tell _him_ that"

ohmgygoghod so what if miles follows tris to his room and his room is sparkling clean already and REVEAL: he's doing push ups with headphones in and miles just watches for a sec partly because he’s adorable and partly because it’s sad how thin and determined he is until tris says "i can see your shoes"

and miles sits outside his room and is like "you were perfect the way you were, you know."

"you don't have to do that" *tris gets up and dusts off his hands and wraps his headphones around his shoddy ass mp3 player*

“I want you to believe it so i'm trying."

"I can't fall back into hanging onto your every word."

"I didn't say -"

"As nice as it is that you're trying, that's not your job. I'm here to do that stuff for myself."

silence

"Is Owen really coming?"

"No."

and then they talk stuff out and Tris explains that _ya_ he _kinda_ wants to take Miles back but they're both going through so much and his heart still hurts about it and he cries

and Miles is like 'I promise I'm sorting my shit. Being here is helping tons, I never thought I could get so much out of therapy. I know I'd never leave you again, even if I had hard days.'

and Tris is like 'I can't. I  _can't_. I'm not strong enough to cope if you left me again and I don't want that to be your responsibility.'

and Miles is like 'I promise, Tris. I'm okay and I want to be with you and help you be okay.' and blah blah and they kiss through the doorway when the nurses aren't looking, just a really sweet soft quick one and Miles brushes away Tris' tears with his thumb and they both smile

and then they get out of the ward (i wanted to make this whole thing so much more detailed abt ward life and therapies but the show got too far ahead of me and the characters changed and they did p well with Hunter's plot anyway so ya from now on they're back together, cautious but still hanging out and kissing sometimes)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've both been discharged from the ward and they're sickly sweet and a bit ooc :))))) (short chapter but i'm the only one who really gives a fuck and only because I want to get this off my laptop and into the world lol)

**TRISTAN’S POV**

“You okay if I take the last one?” Miles gestures to the near-empty box of chocolate-covered pretzels.

“Oh, um,” I pick at my nails, trying to psych myself up for what I’m about to say.  “Well, I was kind of hoping I could have it.”

He swiftly looks up at me, hopeful, and asks, “Really?”

Drowning in thoughts of self-hatred and fear, I can’t keep up the eye contact, and try to back out.  “But not if you want it.”

“Tris, you –”

I interrupt, “No, seriously, just don’t talk about it.  I took a step already.  We’re good.  It’s fine.”

He sighs and puts an arm around my shoulder, drawing me in tightly to his chest.  He strokes my arm gently, the sign of affection he reserves only for me.

“I know it’s hard, Tris.  I’m proud of you.  Just… promise me if you need to talk that you will.”

He’s doing it again.  That look he gives me, the one that says he’s focused only on me, and he doesn’t care about anything or anyone else in the world.

“You know if you keep looking at me like that I’m going to melt into a puddle on the floor.”

Miles laughed with his famous toothy grin, then settled into a contented smile.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” I didn’t even mean to say it; I was thinking it so strongly that it came out.

“Nowhere near as flawless as you,” he replies, brushing his knuckles against my cheek.  “But you still have to promise.”

Though I expected to lie to him, he taps my nose lightly with his index finger and I’m surprised to find that I mean it when I tell him, “I promise.”


	16. hotline bling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> miles calls tris and gets his voicemail (self injury cw again)

                 Hey, it's Tristan, leave a message!

 

Hey, sorry, um, I just needed to hear your voice… how cliché is that…

My dad came by tonight asking for forgiveness.  God, Tris, I just can’t take any more of this - Mom was listening to him!  Blatant lies, anger in his voice, it’s all for show and I don’t get how she can’t see it.  He must have something on her, that’s why she forgave him for the affair and always takes his side…

What if he hurts her?  What if she lets him come back?  What if he hurts Frankie or Hunter?

What am I going to do, Tris?  I can’t do anything and I’ve only just learnt to remind myself it wasn’t my fault.

It wasn’t.

I can’t deal with it.  I know I need something right now, a distraction, a high, but what I really want is you.  You always fix everything by just holding my hand.  I mean - no I don’t mean that, you just make me feel stronger.  You believe in me, and that’s…

I’m not blaming you for not answering your phone, it’s just harder to find the willpower to stop, you know?

I miss it.  I miss burning, and cutting, and bruising and I know I’ve come so far from that but I’ll always be an addict and it’s everywhere.  It’s almost subconscious.  I don’t even notice I’m digging my nails into my arm until there’s blood, and then what do I do?  Have I relapsed?  I don’t know.

Fuck.  Sorry.  I shouldn’t be dumping all this on you.  I know it scares you and makes you feel terrible.  It helps to talk about it sometimes though.  I’ll be okay, I will, I promise.  Thinking about you helps.  I know we said we'd try not to lean on each other too much.  Wait, nevermind, I'll just text you to delete this.  I don't need you to hear it.  I just needed to vent, I guess.  Uh, bye.


	17. i have so many fucking chapters left to paste and post

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> triles go clothes shopping but. y'know. tris has an ED.   
> i wrote this before season 16 and wow i keep writing lines that become canon lmao

“Tris, you okay?”

A beat, then, “Yeah.”

“Tris.”

This time, no reply came.  Miles knew better than to brush off his concern.  Tristan still had trouble with his body image, even though he was already hot as fuck, in Miles’ opinion.  Taking him shopping was bound to be an adventure; fashion was so important to him but at the same time his eating disorder had warped his perception of his body beyond ? belief?.  Miles hated, no, _loathed_ the idea that Tristan thought so badly of himself that he would avoid every instance of food, wouldn’t even discuss it or eat in front of anyone.

“I’m coming in, okay?”

Again, he heard nothing in response.  Pushing aside the curtain to step into the changing room, Miles noticed his boyfriend turn sharply toward him, seemingly frightened by his presence.  He placed a light hand on Tristan’s shoulder, trying to gauge how comfortable he was with being touched right then.  Seeing that he didn’t recoil, Miles stepped closer.

“Close your eyes.”

Tristan shook his head, turning back to the mirror.  “Why?”

“Just trust me.” It wasn’t insistent; it was the gentle, adoring tone Miles used when he had just woken up on a weekend and didn’t want to get out of bed for drinking in his boyfriend’s easy smile and vague vanilla scent.

Tristan took a deep breath, closing his eyes on the exhale.  Miles gently slid his arms around his waist, but felt Tristan suck in what little stomach he had as he realised where his arms were headed.

“Don’t.  Don't do that.”

“I have to.”

Considering, Miles tried to phrase his response as carefully as he could.  “That’s what your disorder tells you.  I know it’s hard, but every little thing you do to fight it makes you stronger, and happier... Tris, you don’t have to hide from me.”

Tears threatened to escape from Tristan’s eyes as they opened to observe his reflection with disdain.

“I hate this,” Tristan choked out.

“That’s okay.  One step at a time.  Hey,” he placed a gentle kiss on his neck, “I’m not going anywhere.  And you’ve already come so far.”

Tristan gave a weary smile, about to repeat the process of waving off every quantifiable achievement he’d made in the past year, when his brunet lover caught on and cut him off.

“No, Tris, you have.  This disorder is a - a vicious creature.  And you’ve made real progress.  Baby, I’m _so_ _proud of you_.”

“Miles, you listen to me and you try to understand but you’re thin.  You’ve always been thin, and you don’t know anything else.  You’re sweet for trying to make me feel better, but I know I’m still fat and you’re always overreacting to–"

“Tristan!” Miles spun Tristan rapidly around by his delicate frame to make eye contact; his gaze was fierce against the guilt in his boyfriend’s eyes.  “Don’t _ever_ say that again.  It’s not overreacting when you won’t eat for two days and I’m scared for your life.  I care about you, it’s _impossible_ to tell you how much I care, and I need you, and _it hurts me_ to see the outline of your ribcage when you breathe, a-and have you constantly dehydrated and sick!”

Tristan sniffed and looked at his shoes, locking his jaw.  Miles softened his grip on his shoulders as he continued.

“I’m not saying this to put pressure on you.  I’m saying it because it’s the truth; your body is suffering, and so is your mind.  I’ll always be right next to you through everything but I need you to be on this too."

“It never goes away, Miles.  No matter what I’m doing, or what _you’re_ doing, I still have those fears chipping away at me.” He lowered his voice to a whisper as he glanced apprehensively at Miles’ eyes.  “It’s hell.”

Miles drew their bodies together into a tight embrace, Tristan burying his face into his neck.

“I know.  I know.  I’m so sorry.”

For a few silent moments, the pair stood together in the small change room, each finding comfort in the warmth of the other.

With another deep breath, Tristan withdrew from Miles and once again faced the mirror.  Seeing his boyfriend’s encouraging smile from behind him, he nodded with only slight hesitation.

“This one.”

Miles grinned and squeezed his boyfriend’s shoulders.

“It’s perfect.”

“ _You’re_ perfect,” Tristan replied, twisting around to capture his lover’s lips in an innocent kiss.

“Shut up, this is _your_ moment.”


End file.
